Facets
by Jedi Boadicea
Summary: A collection of short pieces, in a companion story to Frozen Sky. What are the thoughts of those watching Hitsugaya as he makes his rise to Captain? See author page for spoiler warnings.
1. Part 1: Choice of the Heart

_Author's Note: This story will be a series of companion pieces to my other story, "Frozen Sky." I did not want to disrupt the insular flow of "Frozen Sky" by inserting other viewpoints, so the occasional outsider's point of view, as they observe Hitsugaya's progress through the events of "Frozen Sky," will be seen here. This part of "Facets," titled "Choice of the Heart," takes place immediately after Part 1 ("Waking to Frost") of "Frozen Sky." _

**FACETS **

Part One: Choice of the Heart 

Ukitake blames Unohana and the persuasive power of her iron determination for his presence here tonight. Her will and manner might be wrapped in gentle silk, but they are iron all the same.

He would blame Shunsui as well, but Shunsui's ability to manipulate him has been refined and applied over so many centuries that it has simply become another fact of life; impossible to lay blame or credit at its door.

_"You owe it to your health to lessen your workload, Ukitake-taichou." _

_"I need to know that you'll be there to look after my Nanao-chan. I'm just too swamped with work today." _

Ukitake smiles to himself, partly out of a vindicated satisfaction, knowing that Shunsui is not so much busy as he is painfully hungover, and that Ise Nanao knows this perfectly well. He might be stuck out in the cold tonight, but at least he isn't the only one suffering, and Shunsui's suffering is likely to multiply once his Vice Captain returns. Ukitake is half tempted to tell Ise about her Captain's "concerns" for her safety, but in the end decides he can't be that cruel. Not until Shunsui is totally sober again, at least, and ready to defend himself.

He blames Unohana and Kyouraku, but their familiar manipulations are only a superficial thing. He _wants_ to blame them for the pain his presence here tonight is causing him, but that is a matter too deep for blame. He understands why they've pushed him to this, but he wishes it wasn't necessary. He wishes they would stop trying. The only thing preventing him from asking them to stop is that he knows they're right, but that doesn't make it any easier to bear.

"Is this is a good position, Ukitake-taichou?" Ise Nanao asks him now, as she comes to stand beside him on the hill overlooking the forested valley below, where the academy's brightest are waiting for a Hollow to appear.

What she is really asking him, of course, is if he is feeling well enough to continue with this observation, but she is too properly polite to say it openly. He returns the politeness in kind, and merely says, "This is fine."

It is a good position, true. Close enough to sense the events transpiring below through the surrounding spirit pressures, and far enough away that skilled Shinigami should be able to hide their own reiatsu just enough to go unnoticed by students focused on an enemy. And though everyone on this hill has more than the necessary skill, Ukitake could wish, in the deep privacy of his thoughts, for better company.

Of the Captains gathered here tonight, only Aizen feels like a true friend. Komamura is an honorable man and a true Captain, but Ukitake has not been given the opportunity to know him well. Komamura seems to prefer it that way, and so he has let it be.

Kurotsuchi, however, has always made him deeply uncomfortable, and if there is anything for which he has felt grateful in regards to illness, it is for the valid excuse it has given him to interact with Kurotsuchi Mayuri as little as possible. Even though their division compounds are next to each other, Ukitake rarely leaves the inner buildings of his demesne, and has little cause or opportunity to be forced into socializing with this particular Captain. He can recognize the man as a peer, but he cannot come to think of him as a comrade in arms. That involves at least a modicum of trust, and Kurotsuchi inspires the exact opposite reaction in him. He has no right to interfere in the private business of other Captains, but he can't help wishing – and he has often mentioned it in polite missives to the Central 46 as well as Yamamoto-sensei – that _someone _would put a stop to some of Kurotsuchi's activities. If even half of the rumors are true, then the man is half a monster, no matter his skills.

He cannot say it in public, of course, but he often wishes that Urahara Kisuke could return. There had been times when Urahara seemed half mad, and there was no denying his lapses in sound judgment while in pursuit of his science, but despite all this Ukitake had trusted the man. Trusted him in the ways that truly mattered.

Kaien often told him that he trusted far too easily. It had always seemed like such a wonderfully ironic comment coming from Kaien, the easiest person in the world to trust, and the reason he is standing on a hill tonight, trying to hide his hands from the cold in folds of white fabric.

Ise Nanao stands next to him now, no doubt following orders from Shunsui to _"look after Jyuu-chan,"_ and though he appreciates the sentiment, a part of him aches having her there, occupying a place he is not yet ready to fill.

That is why they have all convinced him to come tonight, of course. Past time, they think – even if they will not say it openly – for him to have picked a new Vice Captain. And perhaps they are right. Perhaps it is past time. Surely Sentaro and Kiyone are likely to kill him faster than illness with their over-attentiveness. But this is a choice he is not yet ready to make.

_"They say there's quite the genius in this year's batch,"_ Shunsui had said, mumbling with a poorly feigned casualness from under his hat.

A genius is the last thing he wants. The reminders would be too sharp.

Shunsui undoubtedly knows this, but he has also always been one willing to swallow bitter medicine for the greater good. Ukitake shares that willingness. He has simply not recovered from the last time such a choice was made.

"Wasn't Zaraki-taichou supposed to be here tonight?" Aizen asks casually, moonlight shining off his glasses as he looks calmly about.

"Yes," Ise Nanao replies swiftly, efficient and knowledgeable as always. Ukitake couldn't have hoped for a better second for his friend. Heaven knows Shunsui could use a bit more efficiency in his daily life. "But most recent word says a third Hollow was spotted outside eastern Rukongai's fourth district, and he seems to have taken a… detour… in that direction."

Aizen smiles faintly. "It _has_ been rather peaceful lately. Zaraki has undoubtedly been feeling… restless."

"A shame he has not taken it out on his subordinates, in his usual fashion," Kurotsuchi says, that huge grin of his seemingly immovable as always. "I could always use his leftovers."

Ukitake can't quite control the grimace that turns his lips, and tries to cover it up by letting one of the coughs he usually suppresses emerge. He doesn't even need to glance at his hand for blood as he pulls it away; he is intimately acquainted with how each level of coughing feels, and tonight he is in as healthy a state as can be hoped. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ise Nanao frowning slightly, but she does not look at him, or move from her position, hands clasped loosely behind her back. Sometimes he thinks that an unflappable, unobtrusive Vice Captain like Ise might be best for him. But after Kaien, it's almost impossible to imagine a second that wouldn't constantly interfere, and constantly argue, and constantly fill the room with the warmth of his good intentions.

"Ah," Aizen says softly, and Ukitake glances curiously towards him at the tone. Hands tucked away in his sleeves, Sousuke looks as calm as ever, his eyes unreadable behind the reflective panes of his glasses. "It would seem that Sasakibe-fukutaichou has come to join us. Yamamoto-taichou has indeed taken an interest in this young genius."

Ukitake does not doubt the accuracy of Aizen's claim, though he himself cannot yet sense the 1st Division's Vice Captain approaching. If he has one great weakness he is quick to acknowledge, it is that strong emotion often clouds his spirit sense. Reflexes honed over centuries have usually allowed him to compensate, but there is no denying that this inability has cost him in the past, and probably will in future. Nor is there any denying the emotions tonight's activity are stirring up in him.

A few moments later, Sasakibe Choujirou joins them on the hill, offering a perfect bow of respect to the gathered Captains. Without a word spoken, he joins Komamura, and a slight tilt of the visored helmet the Captain wears is all the acknowledgment, or permission, given. Ukitake knows that Komamura has a deep history with Yamamoto-sensei, but he has never sought to uncover it. Komamura is owed his privacy, and Yamamoto is an old teacher, doubly entitled to his own affairs.

He does think it sad, however, that Komamura continues to feel the need for that helmet. Even in the company of fellow Captains.

"Really, what is taking so long?" Kurotsuchi asks, opening and closing his fingers in repetitive ripples of motion, as though anxious to be burying them in some best-unnamed experiment. "Perhaps there isn't a one among them quite ingenious enough to offer sufficient lure to a Hollow after all. Pity."

"Wait," Komamura says, the first word he has spoken all evening. "It comes."

Trying not to let his relief show – it _is _a cold night, after all, and healthy though he may be feeling, this would not be his preferred choice of passing the remaining hours until dawn – Ukitake suppresses another cough, and nods to himself as the distant approach of a Hollow's taint becomes more noticeable. He only hopes the students below are as gifted as reported, to sense this approach clearly. The distance would be nothing for Captains to cover, should the need arise – but that is not the point of this exercise. Should the need arise, then that means a penalty for failure must be paid. There have not been deaths in these tests for many decades now; these students are chosen for their strength. All Shinigami students must eventually face dummy Hollows, some sooner rather than later, but only those on the brink of graduation who are expected to earn a seated position in the Gotei 13 are ever invited to participate in this particular testing. Captains with an open seat are invited to watch. To choose.

"_You owe it to your health…" _

"_They say there's quite the genius…"_

No. Ukitake already knows he is not going to make that choice. Not tonight.

He only hopes he will not be forced to witness another death before the dawn.

But again his emotions have clouded his mind, and he senses Captain Soi Fong's approach only a few heartbeats before her sudden arrival. She steps out of a shunpo, the fabric of her jinbaori and hakama snapping for a moment in the wind-wake of her movement. It is the only sound made by her arrival. The epitome of stealth, as always. And of other things. If Ise Nanao is unflappable, Soi Fong seems often to be carved of stone. She was not always thus, Ukitake remembers. He thinks the change a shame, but again, such things are not said between Captains. At least not by him. Not all stand so firmly on ceremony, but he has never quite been able to shake the rigorous requirements of politeness. The fault of a noble's upbringing, he supposes. Or centuries under Yamamoto-sensei's example.

Or maybe simply his own failing. Kaien used to tease him about it.

Yet another thing he misses.

"The other group has defeated their enemy," Soi Fong reports, taking up a watchful position beside Aizen.

"I hope some of them proved appropriate to your need," Aizen says.

"Sufficient."

Smiling faintly, Aizen exchanges an amused glance with Ukitake, who raises a hand to his lips once again to hide his expression. Sometimes it is hard to remember Sousuke as anything other than one of the Seireitei's most able and admired Captains, and then sometimes it is hard to remember him as anything other than the able and admirable subordinate Ukitake had once taken so much pleasure in recommending to Vice Captain. He had been sorry, on that long ago day, to lose Aizen to another division, but there had never been any doubt in his mind that Aizen was destined for Captainship, and he was only too glad to put him on that path by whatever means necessary.

When the Hollow's roar breaks the night, no one on the hill flinches. The only sound to follow is that of Kurotsuchi's soft laughter, echoing eerily from behind his teeth. Ukitake is glad that he does not know what the man is thinking.

Doing his best to set emotion and discomfort aside, Ukitake clears his mind and lets his senses become his eyes.

In the valley far below, several spirit pressures collide. A few of them are blurry, overlapping slightly as those of comparable strength often do. The Hollow, of course, is unmistakable. But two of the students have quite distinct reiatsu, one particularly strong in kidou; at least one incantation has already been performed. The other radiates an impressive power, even at this distance, but something about it remains strangely muted.

"It is a strong Hollow," Komamura says, and beside him Sasakibe gives a slight nod of agreement.

"Yes," Ukitake says, trying not to let his mind wander back into memory. Centuries fighting Hollows, and only since Kaien has he begun to fear them. Fear what they might do around him. Fear for himself has never been a factor, even in his youth. If sickness has taught him anything, it is a comfort with the nearness of his own death. "But there is strength there to match it."

"If he _moves_," Soi Fong says bluntly. "Poor reaction time."

"Perhaps the boy is paralyzed with fear," Kurotsuchi interjects with another empty laugh.

"No," Aizen says, his hands still neatly folded in the sleeves of his haori. "He is frozen by something else, I think."

A few moments later, Ukitake marvels at the prescience of Aizen's words. It would have been patently impossible, of course, to know the nature of a stranger's zanpakutou without having seen it once already, and often not even then can full natures be perceived. 'Frozen by inner reflection,' had been no doubt what Aizen meant, for a connection with his zanpakutou had clearly been reached by the academy's newest prodigy below. But coincidental as Sousuke's choice of words might have been, they are proven entirely appropriate by the sight of the creature who can now be seen rising above the treetops.

Nanao makes a soft sound of wonder, and Ukitake has to nod, sharing the sentiment. This is a full shikai release, undoubtedly the first, and already the strength it radiates is worthy indeed of a seated officer's skill. It is strong, yes. And beautiful. After so many years, Ukitake Jyuushiro has learned to appreciate the latter over the former. Respect is owed to strength, but what is life without beauty?

At this distance, the shimmer around the dragon below is like moonlight on water. Tiny fragments of ice left in the dragon's wake as it moves shatter into stardust. And it moves _quickly_. Surprisingly quick. That speed will only improve with time and training. It is a sobering thought.

Zanpakutou with elemental natures are not uncommon, but they are notoriously difficult to fully master, and few emerge with wielders skilled enough to bring out their full potential. Perhaps there had been more than one reason that Yamamoto-sensei allowed this boy to enter the academy so many years before the usual age.

Ukitake cannot help thinking of Rukia, as he watches the sinuous curves of the icy dragon below rise briefly above the trees before diving back down again, controlled by the will of a Shinigami whose reiatsu is growing palpably stronger by the second.

Rukia, who could easily have filled one of the vacancies he has been invited here tonight to fill, the snow of her own blade shimmering with bright grace. She is skilled enough. And he owes her… he owes her any form of respect he can give, any reward that might serve to distract her memories more effectively than his own have been distracted since that night.

And yet, at the same time, he cannot truly fault Kuchiki Byakuya. Once, he had thought Kuchiki's request cruel, especially in his insistence that Rukia not be told why her skills remained unacknowledged. But now… now he cannot help the traitorous will of his own heart, wanting to keep her safe. He has done her enough harm already.

The opposing spirit pressures below are reaching a peak of conflict now, and Ukitake gathers his thoughts once again, focusing on the battle, though there is no longer any doubt in his mind as to the outcome. The brief explosion and then fading of the Hollow's aura marks the end, followed by a surge in the boy's reiatsu. Exultant is the only way to describe it. Even at the remove of so many centuries, Ukitake can still remember how it felt the day he first reached a true communion with his zanpakutou. Thinking it, he places a hand lightly on his sword, and Sougyo No Kotowari seems to hum in response, deep in the back of his mind. He does not release his zanpakutou often these days. Perhaps he owes the sword some training.

"Excuse me," Ise says, bowing briefly but correctly to the assembled Captains, and then disappears to return to her charges. She will be a good calming influence, helping to bring the boy back from his newfound place of power into a less heady reality. Though it is quite possible that one who can summon forth ice with such comfortable skill will not need much help in cooling a hot head.

"Well," Aizen says, his eyebrows slightly raised. "The night has proved quite interesting, wouldn't you agree?"

Ukitake just nods, fighting to keep in an unexpected cough.

"The boy is gifted," Komamura says, his voice a sonorous echo from behind his helmet, lacking the disconcerting quality that always emerges from Kurotsuchi's mask. "Genryuusai-dono was right to admit him for training."

Sasakibe nods again, fine eyebrows and moustache undisturbed by the slightest hint of an expression which might betray his feelings. But Ukitake does not doubt that Yamamoto-sensei will get a full and detailed description of tonight's exercise.

"Too strong," Soi Fong says, narrowing her eyes. The weighted coils hanging from her hair shift at her back with the fractional shake of her head. "I have no openings in my division, and he is not suited for the Onmitsukidou brigades."

Yes, she is probably right. That sort of strength cannot be kept leashed for stealth, or the ambition which might drive it kept masked by the anonymity required of most in Special Operations.

Ukitake knows he has openings. He has the perfect openings. He could use such skill in his squad, and he could use the somber dedication this young genius has reportedly applied to his studies, far surpassing the capabilities and ambition of most Shinigami senior to him in age.

But he cannot do this. He cannot take another prodigy, strong in their gifts, strong in their potential. It is too easy to want to nurture those gifts, to want to guide them, to watch them grow. Too easy to love a face alive with such genius.

He had loved Kaien. Perhaps like a son. He cannot truly know how it feels to have loved a son, but he knows that Kaien, with his genius, with his kindness, with the sharpness of his wit and the fierce independence of his defiance, was more to him than a Vice Captain. He has had many Vice Captains. He has seen many of them die.

His dreams have never been haunted by any death save Kaien's.

"I will take him," Kurotsuchi says.

Ukitake shudders, and not just with the cough that suddenly overtakes him. He struggles to get it under control, wanting very badly now to speak. His reaction is gut-deep and instinctive; he would almost take this boy, at the risk of his own heart, just to keep him away from Kurotsuchi. There is no doubt in his mind why the 12th Division Captain would want such a young genius in his reach, under his control.

"Please excuse my presumption, Kurotsuchi-taichou," Aizen says, "but it seems to me that one whose skills are so clearly oriented towards combat might benefit from a position in a more battle-oriented squad. And Soul Society itself would benefit from him in that capacity."

Ukitake carefully presses his fingers to the corners of his mouth, to be sure he has wiped off the blood flecks he knows will be there this time, and silently thanks Sousuke for his intervention.

"Are you saying you want him, then, Aizen?" Kurotsuchi turns to face the 5th Division Captain, the moonlight playing in disturbing ways on the garish details of his mask. "Shall we make a contest of it, then?"

"Ah, no," Aizen shakes his head, smiling faintly. "I'm afraid I do not have a position open of a high enough rank to be worthy of his skills. I merely suggest that he may be better suited to a division with units actively engaged in Hollow patrol. Such as Komamura-taichou's, for instance."

Komamura says nothing. Whatever expression might be gracing his unusual face, as he continues to stare down into the valley below, is hidden to the Captains now watching him. The posture of his huge body betrays nothing.

"Ch. Komamura doesn't seem to want him."

"Aizen is right," Soi Fong says, giving Kurotsuchi a cold look out of the corner of her narrowed eyes. "Leave the boy to a division that will benefit from him."

"Oh, my division will benefit from him."

Ukitake looks to Aizen, hoping with a glance to convince him that even a low position in 5th Division would be better than Kurotsuchi's clutches. Fortunately, it has begun to rain above the valley – an interestingly localized phenomenon that could quite possibly be another side-effect of the boy's power – and the sound of thunder and approaching rainfall is enough to hide Aizen's words from anyone save Ukitake, standing closest to him.

"I cannot do much more," Aizen says quietly, carefully not looking at Kurotsuchi, who has turned his gaze back to the valley, a hungry light in his eyes.

"Surely…" Ukitake begins, but then hesitates. How can he ask Aizen for something he himself is unwilling to do?

"I'm sorry, Ukitake-san, but I don't think it would be wise." Sousuke's brow furrows slightly in the regretful frown Ukitake remembers from those days, long ago, when he would apologize to his Captain for some self-perceived failure. Always imagined. Sousuke never failed at anything in Ukitake's memory. "I have heard of this Hitsugaya from an officer of mine. They are childhood friends. I have high hopes for her, and do not wish her to become too distracted. Her training progresses well, and I would like it to continue at this pace. But perhaps you – "

Fortunately, Ukitake is spared having to explain his own reluctance by Komamura, whose voice can be heard clearly even over the rain that has now reached the hill, spattering the robes and faces of all present. Not even a Captain's reiatsu can truly keep the rain at bay.

"I will take him," Komamura says. "Genryuusai-dono's judgment is law. If he feels that this Hitsugaya Toushiro should be well positioned for advancement, then I will do so."

The look on Sasakibe's face, normally so inscrutable, betrays that this was what he had been hoping for all along.

"A wise choice, I think," Aizen says quickly.

A hiss of annoyance escapes Kurotsuchi's mask. "Very well, then. Take him. But do not be too surprised if your next request for technical assistance is met with disregard."

"I will not be surprised," Komamura says, no emotion discernable in his voice. His helmet does not even turn toward the 12th Division Captain.

With another hiss, and a clacking of one long nail against his masked cheek in a peculiar gesture of disdain, Kurotsuchi sweeps back his haori and vanishes into the darkness.

"I will take my leave," Soi Fong says then, but does not even wait for her words to be acknowledged before vanishing as well.

Ukitake lets the sigh he has been holding in all night escape him, masked by the sound of the rain. Rain. Rain. Rain brings back too many memories. His hair has begun to stick to the back his neck. He thinks he has made the right choice. Anyone with the power to call rain in his presence would call memories with it.

But he hopes, nonetheless, for a chance to know this Hitsugaya Toushiro. To see his progress. He hopes that the boy will not be too similar to Kaien. But he knows that he will not be able to help watching. For there is a beauty in genius, and there was a beauty in the dragon he had seen rising above the dark trees.

In his long life Ukitake Jyuushiro has learned that with beauty, as with memory, it can sometimes hurt too much to make the choice of looking away.


	2. Part 2: The Power of Water

_Author's Note: This chapter takes place mere hours after the end of Chapter 2 of "Frozen Sky." Also, the name "Sougou Kyuugo Tsumesho" for the 4th Division's relief center is taken from either the Lunar fansubs or one of the manga translations... I can't remember where I copied it from. But the translator's note said it means: "Station Where Running Water Joins Together to Give Aid." I love that. So here it is. _

**FACETS **

**Part Two – The Power of Water**

Unohana Retsu doesn't sleep much, but this is not something she likes to admit to others.

Sleep, she often tells her patients, is crucial to healing, to a sound mind and body, and the last thing she wants is to be seen giving a bad example. But she also knows that the powers of Shinigami manifest themselves in different ways, and just as aging in Soul Society can be influenced by the strength of one's spirit power, she has resigned herself to the guess that a lack of need for sleep is a peculiar manifestation of hers.

Isane, who has been her reliable Vice Captain for many decades now, once suggested that Unohana felt less of a need for sleep because the calmness of her inner spirit never wavered, allowing her restfulness even in the midst of activity. But Isane respects her a bit too much, Unohana knows, and so, as flattering as she finds the suggestion, she does not think herself nearly so sublime.

Because she is a healer, Unohana knows when to respect the needs of her body, and so she is careful to sleep whenever she is tired, even when there might be work she could otherwise be doing. And when she is not tired, she works, or she experiments with new tea mixtures, or goes for long walks through the gardens and countryside.

But most of the time she works. She is a healer, and healing others refreshes her soul more than sleep.

Unfortunately, the long hours spent awake after others have retired also offer her ample time to think with regret on the instances when her healing has failed.

She is a Captain of the Gotei 13, a trained and experienced Shinigami. She knows what others think, and have always thought, of the 4th Division, but she does not let that affect her work, or her awareness of who she is. She can be a warrior, if the need demands. She was trained, once, to be so. Her palms bear the calluses of a sword grip and a healer's touch both, and it is through an understanding of both sides of battle that she has come to be the best healer Soul Society has known.

And because she knows the wounds of battle – how to cause them, and how to heal them – she knows that there are some things that _cannot _be healed. Some wounds that sword blades do not cause.

She finds herself pondering those sorts of incurable wounds on the evening that Hitsugaya Toushiro is sent to her medical center for the first time, followed later by another pale-haired visitor in the night.

In the quiet rooms of Sougou Kyuugo Tsumesho, there is often little else for patients to do but talk to one another, and so Unohana, as she walks her halls, hears much. Occasionally people are surprised by how much information she seems to accumulate, but that is only because they don't realize themselves how often they foolishly assume that simply because you don't talk to your healers, it means that your healers do not listen.

She is good with her sword, but better at healing, and at listening best of all.

Especially when it comes to listening to the words that people do not speak.

She has heard a great deal about Hitsugaya Toushiro over the last three years. When Yamamoto Genryuusai personally approved the acceptance of a student to the academy for the first time in centuries, most prominent figures in the Seireitei heard about it. When that student – no more than a boy, many said – graduated in only a year, and was accepted as a fifth seat in the Gotei 13, word spread once again. But students and teachers from the academy are usually treated at the academy itself and rarely visit her halls, so it was not until three men arrived from 7th Division to be treated for broken bones and frostbite that she got her first true report of Hitsugaya Toushiro as a Shinigami.

Unohana is very careful about remembering those things which have caused harm to her patients, and the details of the many kinds of wounds she has healed. She has heard many rumors about this young prodigy over the last two years, but she remembers most clearly the explanation those three men gave for their injuries. That, and the ice, unnaturally resistant to melting, that she had been forced to remove from their limbs.

So when her ninth seat officer calls through the screens of her office to say that Komamura-taichou has sent the fourth seat of his division for her to examine, Unohana is very curious to meet the boy behind the unusual injuries she once treated.

He is waiting for her in a small room overlooking the medical building's courtyard. Her subordinates know that she likes working in this room, because the view soothes her too often recalcitrant patients. Her current patient, though shorter than the usual variety, seems no less immune to its power.

Moonlight plays on the courtyard's large fountain and the four sculpted streams that start beneath its white basin and wind through the grass, under the walkway bridges, and through various rooms of the compound. One of the legends of the hospital's founding attribute great healing powers to the water of that fountain, and though she herself has proven this not to be the factual case, sometimes fact isn't necessary to inspire truth, and many even of her own officers sneak out to the fountain in the night for a drink after particularly weary days.

He is watching the silver motion of the fountain's spray as she enters the room, and does not look around, though she is certain that he both heard and sensed her approach. Somehow his aloofness does not surprise her.

"Good evening, Hitsugaya-san," she says, sliding the door closed behind her.

And when he does turn his head to look at her, she is not surprised to see the moonlight reflected in eyes of ocean color. It is fitting, perhaps, that he be mesmerized by a fountain's dance; water, Unohana knows, is a powerful element, and in the end all streams join together. His body slowly follows the turn of his head, and he lets his arms drop to his sides in order to execute a brief but appropriate bow.

"Unohana-taichou," he says.

His voice, on the other hand, surprises her.

She had not expected him to sound young, and he does not. But she had, even if only in the brief seconds since entering the room, expected a fluidity to his voice that would hint at water, and the often misunderstood motions of its secret currents. His voice, however, is more like ice, and she understands the wounds of those three men much better now.

"It's a bit late for an examination, isn't it?" she asks, smiling gently.

The grimace that twists his face for a moment before he manages to wipe it clean tells her a great deal.

"Imada-fukutaichou ordered me to come," he said. "We fought a Hollow today. I wasn't injured. The sooner we can get to the end of these unnecessary formalities, the sooner we can both get back to our night's business."

It is her turn to control her expression, but she has had many more lifetimes' worth of experience in the practice than he, and so her widening smile remains well hidden behind serenity. There is a certain guilelessness to his rudeness that amuses her. From another boy his age, she would have thought his obvious indignation at being sent for a checkup after a victorious battle a sign of youth. But in his case, judging by his posture, and the unusual depth of his eyes, she deems it a sign of that deepest sort of confidence that only the most powerful of people exude. Those with the most legitimate grounds on which to base arrogance are often not even aware of the way they carry themselves, unlike those who posture to cover up for their inherent lack.

"It is not unusual for seated officers to present themselves for periodic examination, especially after difficult battles," she says calmly, moving to join him at the open window. She can sense him tensing, and wonders if he will step away to put more distance between them. She is pleased when he does not, because she can guess why his superiors have ordered this late night visit - which is not nearly as common as she is making it sound - and she thinks he will need to accustom himself to standing, unflinching, in the company of many kinds of people. "It is more unusual that I have not seen you in our halls before. You've taken no injuries in the last year and a half?"

He slants her a fleeting glance out of the corner of his eye, clearly attempting to assess her motive, but looks back to the window before answering. "None worth mentioning."

"That is good to hear. And you say you took no hurt today?"

"No."

"And what of your Zanpakutou?" she asks, deliberately not looking toward the blade sheathed across his back. But when he sucks in a soft, barely audible breath and tenses his shoulders, his reaction to her question confirms another suspicion.

Many Shinigami in their first years of familiarizing themselves with their Zanpakutou do not realize that exploring deeper levels of communion and training can exhaust the spirit force of both wielder and blade, leaving them vulnerable in ways they might not fully recognize for themselves. If Komamura decided to send him here tonight, and he is reacting to matters of Zanpakutou as though she were prodding an open wound, then his battle today must have marked a new level of power shared with his sword. This, she is sure, is Komamura's true concern. He will want to know how deep the boy's reserves of strength go, and whether what happened today was enough to diminish his reiatsu.

It is not often that Captains take the time to single out subordinates for her examination in such a fashion, and this unusual circumstance tells her much.

"What do you mean?" he demands in response to her question, his words low and clipped.

"I mean, was your Zanpakutou damaged?"

"No. Of course not."

This time she lets a hint of her smile show. Some might have labeled the indignation in his reply childishness, but she has dealt with enough Shinigami in her life to realize that this sort of childishness has nothing to do with age. She sees it almost every day.

"That is also good to hear. Zanpakutou can sometimes take longer to heal than their wielders, and there is little I can do for them."

He is watching her now through slightly narrowed eyes, and she is surprised again when no further comment is forthcoming. He merely waits.

But then, she tells herself she should not be surprised. Water, after all, can afford to be patient. It will wear even rock in time.

"Please sit down. This won't take long, but it would be best if you were comfortable."

"If it won't take long, I'd prefer to stand."

"Ah, then, perhaps you will sit as an indulgence to me?" she persists, still smiling, and slides a stool into the center of the small room. "It would make my work easier."

He looks from the stool to her face and back again, his eyes slightly narrowed, then finally nods and sits down. Unohana realizes, with a flash of the insight that has always served her well, that he is not trying to be rude, but simply trying to avoid a situation in which his height would be reduced. Safely behind his line of vision she allows herself a different sort of smile. Even the powerful can have their insecurities.

The line of his shoulders is straight and stiff under black fabric, and it is not insight now but long familiarity with warriors that tells her she should do most of her work while in his view, so that the presence of a relative stranger at his back will not keep his guard high. She retrieves an object from a shelf as she moves around the stool, and holds it out to him.

"If you will please hold this, and keep your fingers closed loosely around it until I ask you to let go."

He looks skeptically at the polished silver ball resting on her palm, no larger than a ripe plum, but takes it without a word and does as bidden. He holds it in his left hand, a sign of deep swordsman's instincts. The left hand provides stability and power in a sword grip while the right hand guides, and leaving the right hand free also allows him the freedom to draw his sword if needed. He did not hesitate before reaching with the left, and that tells her much. Hakuda masters tend to choose the right hand, which offers them the most precision in their strikes. Kidou masters, accustomed to cupping fire in their palms, tend to hold the ball in both hands, cradling it like a newborn spell.

The opportunity to observe this sign, this choice of hands, is a large part of the reason that she once asked an old colleague to create this object for her. Too often she needs to quickly assess her patient's instincts, and she knows how often people lie in order to save face, even with their healers.

"Imada-fukutaichou has not been here for some time himself," she says, dipping into her arsenal of distraction tactics as she passes one hand in a slow, sweeping gesture before her patient, probing his reiatsu with her senses. "Perhaps when you return you can remind him that he is overdue for his checkup."

"He probably already knows," Hitsugaya mutters, frowning at the ball in his hand as though he expects it to bite him at any moment.

"Ah, I see," she says with quiet cheerfulness. "I imagine he had many very pressing excuses as to why he could not accompany you."

"At least three."

For all that she prides herself on reading people well, it takes her a moment to conclude that he is in fact playing along with her joke. He has not yet shifted his gaze from the silver ball, and his frown remains intact. She realizes now that as long as he is holding the device, it will provide him with an excuse of his own to not look at or speak with her directly, and that won't do.

"You may release it now, thank you."

When he hands it back, she steps nearer the window and holds it up to the moonlight for inspection - for it also serves a purpose her patients would be more likely to suspect. The light filters through a surface which a moment ago had seemed entirely opaque, and the intensity of the blue glow captured within the translucent, seemingly liquid interior of the ball confirms in precisely measured fact what her senses have already told her.

Whatever happened today in the battle with the Hollow, he has not even begun to chip away at the limits of his spirit power.

She frowns slightly, turning the ball in her fingers to view the light pattern within from another angle.

She is no longer certain about Komamura-taichou's motives in sending the boy to her for examination.

"Was Komamura-taichou present at the battle earlier today?" she asks.

"Yes."

"I see."

When she turns back to him, lowering the ball, the barely muted suspicion in his gaze betrays his desire to ask what Komamura-taichou's presence at the battle might have to do with his examination. But he does not ask it.

As a Captain, Komamura should have been able to sense that the boy had not pushed the limits of his power in the battle. Skill, perhaps, but not power. So why...

Ah.

She slips the ball into one of the small pockets she had long ago sewn on the insides of her long haori for instances such as this one, knowing that she will need to reference the sphere's readings for the report she will be compiling on this examination. It will likely be only the first report of many. Though most of them do not realize it, she has extensive files on all of the Vice Captains and Captains in the Gotei 13.

"What is it?" he asks, his eyes following her movement. "That... ball."

"It is a device that measures the current level of developed spirit power, and how much of that power a Shinigami has exhausted in his recent activities."

"Precisely?" he asks, white eyebrows shooting up.

"Yes, very precisely."

Indeed, it is a one of a kind device, developed at her request and created solely for her use, and she still marvels, even after all these years, that the mind and hand which created something so helpful to her healing also created abominations capable of destroying more than she would ever be able to heal.

"That's useful," Hitsugaya says, in the rather dry tone of voice that she is beginning to suspect makes up most of his conversational repertoire.

She smiles. "I find it so. And now... if you will allow me some questions?"

"If that's what it takes."

"When was the last time you suffered an injury that took more than one day to heal?"

"Six months ago," he answers promptly, and she is pleasantly surprised by how well he recalls the time, and how easily he admits it.

"And the injury was?"

"A sword cut to the back."

"I see. In training?"

"No. One of my subordinates was about to get his head bitten off by a Hollow, and I moved in to block the attack."

"Ah..." she says, choosing not to smile after noticing the look of remembered irritation on his face. "Even in the Gotei 13, newer members often need some time to develop the ability to... stop misdirected swings."

"Apparently."

She can't entirely resist, however, and adds brightly, "Though others are blessed with fine instincts and reflexes even early in their careers, are they not, Hitsugaya-san?"

He holds her gaze, unsmiling, and finally says, "Unohana-taichou... why am I really here?"

"For an examination of your health, of course."

"... I see."

"And how long did the sword cut to your back take to fully heal?"

"About a week."

"Was it deep?"

He shrugs slightly, and the moonlight catches for a moment on the star-like tsuba of his sword. "I suppose."

"Then a week is a good recovery time without a healer's assistance. Your body heals well. Will you permit me?" She spreads her hands before him palm up, and after a brief hesitation he nods. She places her palm lightly against his forehead. Errant strands of white hair brush against the back of her hand, and she can feel the muscles of his brow furrowed into a frown. But he does not move.

It is sometimes difficult to fully sense certain aspects of a person's reiatsu when they are not actively engaged in projecting it, as in battle. Particularly strong warriors often cannot control their projection, their mere presence enough to overwhelm weaker Shinigami, but that does not always make their power easier to read for a healer's task.

Still, Unohana finds the ones who cannot fully mask their presence simpler to diagnose as a general rule. Kuchiki-taichou comes swiftly to mind. He is almost completely inscrutable - even to her - on every personal level, but is at least very easy to diagnose. Reiatsu that strong usually has the story of its owner's health written all over it, for those who know how to read the signs.

Aizen-taichou, on the other hand, has a reiatsu in which it is almost impossible, even for her, to read any signs of injury or good health. Fortunately he is one of few patients willing to speak to her about his health issues when they arise.

And then there was someone like Isshin, of course, who had always possessed the uncanny ability not only to hide his reiatsu almost entirely, but also to project only as much as he wished, when he wished, and how he wished.

He had been unusual in many ways, and she is not surprised to find herself thinking about him now, when dealing with another unusual patient. Though of course, Isshin had rarely allowed himself to _be _her patient, preferring instead to rely on his body's ability to heal itself. She had called it stubbornness, but he'd called it a test. He had always liked setting tests, both for himself and for others. Even in their academy days, he had often devised elaborate exercises in which to ensnare unsuspecting classmates, and after he had achieved his Captain's rank, and she hers, a steady stream of 10th Division subordinates had come through her relief center as a result of failing his "tests." Well-meant, all of them, but the results were almost always the same.

She misses him, sometimes. Unohana enjoys her work, and the fact that it keeps her busy, and does not often let the fact that it also keeps her from spending much time with friends or comrades bother her. But Isshin, with his unusual ability to apply his spirit power to healing as well as combat, had often come by for late night tea and conversation, happy to pick her mind for the sort of healing knowledge that most Shinigami who were not members of 4th Division never bothered to learn. True, his passion had been given to battle, and healing was never more than an idle curiosity to him despite his abilities, but she had appreciated those late nights all the same.

So many familiar faces… gone.

"Unohana-taichou?"

She realizes that she is still standing with her hand on Hitsugaya's forehead, and his eyes like winter water are staring up at her in uncomfortable question.

"My apologies," she says, dropping her hand. "I confess that my mind wandered for a moment. You remind me a bit of an old friend. He, like you, had a spirit sense about him that was difficult to read when he was keeping his power tightly in check."

She wonders if he will deny it, and is pleased, once again, when he does not. He merely watches her through slightly narrowed eyes, waiting for her to reveal more of her game.

Much later, looking back on this first meeting with Hitsugaya Toushiro, she will laud her own instincts in speaking as she does. For though she knows her own abilities, and knows how perceptive she can be, she has never dreamed of thinking herself prescient. And yet she chooses that night to speak him as she only speaks to Isane. Or to other Captains.

"It is a curious fact, but I do not sleep much, Hitsugaya-san. All Shinigami, especially those with high levels of spirit power, deal with that power in different ways. It shapes them, but we also shape it. Like Zanpakutou, some would argue."

He nods immediately, and she is not surprised that he should convey so quick an understanding of this concept. Her initial guess tonight is still undoubtedly accurate, and she suspects that his relationship with his Zanpakutou is currently entering a new stage.

"Some Shinigami cannot control the way they release their spirit power. Some, like kidou masters, can artificially mask or manipulate theirs. But others do so unconsciously, by instinct and intrinsic ability alone. I think you are one of these. Your spirit power level is already at least Vice Captain class, but you hide it well. Do you know why?"

She does not mean the question as a test. She is genuinely curious, especially to know if he understands himself well enough to answer. But she realizes immediately, by the hardening look in his eyes, that he is taking it as a test, and it is too late to retract the question.

"Does it matter why?" he asks. "Will it impede my ability to train and advance?"

"No. Not unless you wish it to."

"I don't," he replies simply. "So it won't. Are we done here? I promise I'm not hiding any injuries."

She folds her hands in her sleeves and bows slightly. "Yes, we are done. Thank you for your patience."

One of his eyebrows climb slightly as he obviously tries to assess whether or not she is being sarcastic. But he does not hesitate to abandon the stool and move toward the door.

"Hitsugaya-san."

He stops with one hand on the opened screen, and barely tilts his head back toward his shoulder in acknowledgment. Unohana has learned to feel immune to rudeness, but she thinks that even had she not done so, she would still find something about this boy's behavior... likable. He is lying to himself about a great many things, but he is at least honest about _being_ what he is.

"Please do not hesitate to see me should you suffer injury in future. It is prudent for all high ranked Shinigami to let their healer become familiar with them. And," she adds, smiling, knowing that he will hear it in her tone even if he cannot see it, "I would be glad of the opportunity to get to know you better."

A few moments pass in silence, but at last he turns around completely to face her once again, ocean eyes veiled as he looks to the floor, and gives her a deep bow. Without another glance he turns back to the doorway and steps through, and only as he is disappearing behind the screen, most of his body a silhouette through paper, does he speak again.

"Unohana-taichou, I think you have another visitor."

He has already moved on before she can reply, but she is pleased by this too, that he was able to sense another reiatsu close by even through his own frustration during their meeting.

But of course, her new guest has never been very good at hiding his distinct reiatsu.

She waits patiently, and a few moments later Ukitake Jyuushiro leans his head around the doorframe like a sheepish student intruding on his senpai's business.

"Ah, Unohana, my apologies!" He smiles, putting a hand up to his head; his long white hair trails around his arm. "I didn't mean to sneak about. I just didn't wish to intrude."

"It's quite all right, Ukitake-taichou. It is always a pleasure to see you. But I hope you're not feeling unwell?"

"Ah no, I'm fine, fine! I just..." he steps fully into the doorway now, and she can see that he is holding a small white jar. "... was wondering if I might get some more of your wonderful tea."

"Of course! Why don't we retire to a more comfortable place for tea and conversation."

"Wonderful," he says, and his smile seems to shed light in the night-shadowed room, warmer than any lamplight. She has always liked this about him.

There are few people abroad in the halls at this time of night, at least in these rooms were non-critical patients are treated, so they do not stumble across any of her subordinates as Unohana leads the 13th Division Captain through the medical rooms, the offices, across a walkway bridge, and finally into the residential wing. This is probably for the best, since such a late night visit would likely incite a great deal of gossip, even amongst her own well-meaning Division. Her people like to gossip, she knows. Healing the Gotei 13 can be bleak and thankless work, and they need diversion where they can find it. She doesn't mind, for her own sake. But Ukitake blushes so easily these days, and she suspects his subordinates give him a much harder time about these sorts of things.

Thinking it, she asks, "How is Kiyone doing? Her sister has been missing her lately, I think."

"She's doing well," Ukitake says, just a bit too quickly.

"Hm. Am I right in suspecting that you were... instructed... to come fetch more tea by your helpful third seat officers?"

He looks for a moment like he might deny it, then heaves a low sigh and shakes the white jar with a rueful expression; the sound of a few lonely tea leaves being tossed rustles in the night. "You would be partly right. Call it a good excuse to free myself. And any excuse to visit you is a good one, besides."

"You flatter me, Ukitake-san. Thank you."

"And I fortunately seem to have had excellent timing tonight. That was Komamura's fourth seat, wasn't it? Hitsugaya Toushiro."

"It was. Did you overhear enough to satisfy you?"

"Ah..." He blushes, tilting his head apologetically. "Just a little. He seems quite the somber young man, doesn't he?"

"Indeed. He reminds me of you. At your more serious moments," she adds with a smile.

Ukitake laughs softly, and she is glad to hear him do so unhindered by coughing. "Thank you. I think. Are you sure it isn't just the resemblance in hair color?"

"There's that too. Please," she adds, opening the door to her private suite of rooms, "come in. There is already a mat set out on the terrace. I will join you with some tea in just a moment."

It does not take her long to prepare a fresh batch of tea; the formalities of ceremony can wait for more official visits. For now, she doesn't want to leave Ukitake in the cool night for long without something warm to soften the impact of cold air on his weakened lungs, and so the pot she had set aside in preparation for her own late night drink will do. Setting the appropriate array on a tray, she pads out onto the terrace boards to find him kneeling beside her mat rather than on it, ever the gentleman. Unfortunately for his efforts, she is a healer, and is not about to let that pass. After setting down the tea, she goes back inside for another mat, and wordlessly lays it out beside him. And fortunately he knows her well enough to spare them both the polite argument, and simply shifts his position to use the mat. Once they are both settled comfortably, overlooking her favorite view, Unohana serves the tea.

"I should say," she begins in her most gentle tones, "that I think you did right in not heeding my advice that day, when I suggested you observe the student exercise."

"Oh?" he replies, taking the cup she offers him. His tone is light, but she can already sense the old, sad tension showing itself beneath it.

"Yes. He would have been... something of a trial. Not the help you need."

"Well... judging by what I overheard tonight, you are probably right about that. Still... I almost regret not choosing him. He sounded like someone who needs to smile more often. Kiyone and Sentaro can be relied on for that, certainly." He grimaces, and even that expression manages to look somehow elegant on his pale, refined features. "Assuming one doesn't kill them first," he adds wryly.

"In this young man's case, I think that might be assuming much," she says lightly.

"But at the very least, Kurotsuchi didn't get him," Ukitake adds, a sharpness creeping suddenly into his tone as he frowns up at the moon.

Unohana says nothing, because she does not know if she would be able to keep to her practice, where Kurotsuchi is concerned, of remaining non-judgmental in her speech about her fellow Captains' tactics and policies. Zaraki is indiscriminately violent, and she laments the fact that she spends so much time patching up his 11th Division, but at least his violence is predictable, and he seeks only to hurt those who might have a chance of hurting him in return. Kurotsuchi, on the other hand...

She tries not to think now about the sphere resting heavy inside the folds of her Captain's haori, or about the man who had made it.

Unohana Retsu does not like indulging in regret. When change comes, she moves with it. It is her way of being honest with the world, and her place in it.

But she knows that not everyone thinks this way. The young man who must now be on his way back to 7th Division's compound, walking alone in the night, is a good example of this.

"What do you know of Komamura's plans for him?" she asks, taking a sip from her tea. It is her favorite herbal mixture, but not the best for soothing the pains of Ukitake's condition. She will need to make a new mixture for him to take.

"Komamura's? Nothing. But Yamamoto-sama sent Sasakibe-fukutaichou to watch that exercise, so he clearly has an interest. If he or Komamura have specific plans for the boy, only they know about it."

"That is unusual. I don't think Yamamoto-soutaichou has taken a personal interest in a student since you and Kyouraku-taichou left the academy."

"Ah, Unohana, you're too young to be talking about such ancient history," Ukitake says with a small grin. "You're making me feel old."

"But you have aged with so much grace, Jyuushiro."

"Eh? You are much slyer than people give you credit for, Unohana," he says, laughing again.

But this time his laugh chokes off in coughing, and his fingers - steady even through this sort of spasm after so many centuries of experience - carefully set his tea on the floor before shaking might cause it to spill.

Unohana frowns, but does not watch him as the fit passes and he slowly collects himself. She believes strongly in allowing patients their dignity, but it is always hard for her to sit by and say nothing, see nothing, touch no one.

She resigned herself a long, long time ago to the fact that there is nothing she can do for Ukitake. Illness in Soul Society is rare - unlike injury - and when it strikes its causes are a mystery to even the most experienced of healers. In the beginning, she insisted on trying, numerous times, to heal the man beside her. He let her try, though his sad smiles made it clear he knew there was no real hope of success. She no longer tries. It only saddens them both to see her fail.

There is one thing she knows for certain, however.

Ukitake's illness has worsened since Shiba Kaien's death.

Whatever might be the cause of his weakened body, incurable though it is, there is no doubt that an aching heart has only weakened him further. And _that_, she is certain, _can _be cured.

But she knows she is not the one with the power to do it.

And though she does not expect her next suggestion to serve as a healing for Ukitake, she hopes it may lessen the burdens on his heart, even if only by a tiny fraction, by giving him someone else's happiness to think on. Even that would be better than nothing.

"I think that Hitsugaya-kun could use a friend," she says. "And he is not likely to find that among even other seated Shinigami. Power comes too easily to him, and that can breed jealousy or misunderstanding in others."

"And with power also comes pride, doesn't it?" Ukitake muses, carefully taking up his tea again.

"For some people, yes. I think he is... not yet sure of his own heart. His is young, and strong, and unafraid of challenge, and all those elements combined may lead him to make very... lonely choices."

"Retsu," Ukitake says, smiling faintly and glancing at her now through hair tossed by a momentary breeze, and it is the first time in a long while that he has called her by her first name. "Are you trying to convince me to go out and befriend another Captain's officers?"

"Not at all," she lies cheerfully. "I am merely suggesting that, should the occasion ever arise, Hitsugaya might benefit from the guidance of a Captain who remembers what it was like to be considered a prodigy by his peers."

"Hmm," he says, sipping at his own tea. "I was never quite _that _much of a prodigy, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps not. And so imagine how he must be feeling."

"Well... I wonder if he likes sweets..."

Unohana surprises herself yet again this night by laughing out loud, light and free.

"Ah, I have made you laugh!" Ukitake says, grinning broadly now. "I'm honored. I've also just won a bet with Shunsui. I don't suppose you would send him a letter verifying this moment, would you?"

"For you, Jyuushiro, anything."

"Wonderful. But at the moment I'd be happy with just another cup of tea."

"Of course," she says, and pours him another.

The breeze is cool, but she is no longer worried about its affect on his lungs. Because Unohana Retsu is a healer, a true healer, and she knows that some things - like companionship, and laugher - heal better than any medicine or spirit power.

And she hopes that someday the young man who left her treatment room so somberly this evening will understand that as well. The men she treated from 7th Division spoke of Hitsugaya Toushiro's Zanpakutou in awed, almost frightened tones. A dragon, they said. Water and ice. Movement so swift it defied sight, and a cold grip so uncompromising it could not be broken. He will make a truly great Shinigami, in a time not very far away. That much is clear. Whether or not he ever learns to speak with his own heart is another matter. There must be a key to it, for all men have one. As his healer, she hopes that she will find it one day.

But tonight, she will no longer worry. Tonight he is healthy, and the man beside her is smiling, and Unohana is glad that she does not sleep much, does not feel tired, glad that she did not miss the chance to see this night's moon shine luminous on the white hair of her visitors.

For in night, as in water, there can be many hidden beauties - like currents, all flowing inward. Water is a great healer, and even beneath the coldest of ice, it waits. Someday maybe she will tell that young man so.

Tonight, she lets time flow at its own pace.

Time, and tea.

"I have a special tea blend in mind for you, Ukitake-taichou. I can have it ready for you by tomorrow."

"You are very gracious. But I think I'll only accept it if you come yourself to deliver it. Bring Isane, too. Kiyone would be grateful."

"That sounds like a wonderful plan." She swallows the last of her tea, and sighs happily. "What a beautiful night it is."

He nods.

Far below, in the wooded lawns around Sougou Kyuugo Tsumesho, one of the streams whispers softly through the darkness, carrying its power - life, even here in Soul Society - out into the night.

The sound of it makes Unohana Retsu smile.


	3. Part 3: Those Who Watch

_A/N: Well, as usual, a terribly long delay between chapters. My apologies. Timeline-wise, this comes after Part Five of "Frozen Sky." _

_And I know, I probably should have gone for a new character's viewpoint, but after dealing with people like Renji, Ichigo, and Orihime in the last story I worked on, I felt it was time to go back into an angsty mind. (Heh.) Besides, Ukitake and Unohana have seemed intent on taking this story over from the beginning, so maybe I should just give in. (Not that it should really matter, at this point, but anyone who wants total consistency/freshness on the viewpoint could of course go back and read the previous Facets chapters. Slow writers always live in fear that people have forgotten everything that came before.)_

_Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my obsession. _

_OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

**FACETS**

Part Three – Those Who Watch 

It has been a very long time since Ukitake Juushiro last observed a formal Captain's examination, and he finds that it brings back many memories, some so long buried that they have almost been forgotten in the flow of centuries.

Faces long gone… Isshin, Kisuke, Kenji, Noriko. For some, he stood in witness, in gatherings such as this one. For others, his recommendation or approval was sometimes the deciding factor that made the examination unnecessary.

There are times when he cannot help but wonder at the fact that he, of all people, has lived long enough to see so many comrades come and go.

And the last century has proved especially tumultuous, where the loss and promotion of Captains is concerned.

Soi Fong faced no examination; her bid for Captainship went completely unquestioned. Though she seemed an entirely different person from the one Ukitake had known previous to Shihouin Yoruichi's departure, he gave his approval for her recommendation. There is no denying her skills. She is the only Commander in the history of the Onmitsukidou brigades to have claimed even further power by assuming the additional rank of Captain. In the privacy of his thoughts, Ukitake believes that even that accomplishment is nothing more than a desire to leave Shihouin Yoruichi far behind, but it is not something he has ever said aloud to anyone but Shunsui, and even then he spoke softly. The Onmitsukidou has many ears.

Kuchiki Byakuya refused an invitation to join the Gotei 13 for decades. There was no one about to question his right to a Captainship; he had only to claim it. And there is no doubt in Ukitake's mind that Byakuya only agreed to become a Captain in order to fill the void left by his wife's death. He has tried to speak to Byakuya about it, but even he, for all his optimism and persistence, has finally given up that battle for lost.

Ichimaru Gin faced the examination, and met the necessary requirements, though Ukitake himself was not present to witness his testing. That month had been one of his worst in fighting the sickness, and he woke from a delirium of weeks to hear that Noriko's old 3rd Division Captaincy had been filled by Aizen's previous Vice Captain. He still occasionally hears disquieting rumors about Ichimaru, but anyone who served under Aizen must surely have picked up enough good traits to balance out negative rumor. Ukitake has never had much of a chance to interact with Ichimaru, but does not regret it. He likes to think that he knows how to read people's smiles, and Ichimaru's hides far more than it reveals.

And then of course there was Kenpachi, and _his_ chosen path to power.

Ukitake is not at all surprised to find that Zaraki Kenpachi has chosen not to attend the examination of this newest applicant to Soul Society Captainship. The newest, and the youngest in Soul Society's history. But it would seem that not even that remarkable fact is enough to pique Zaraki's curiosity.

"Well, this should be interesting," Shunsui says, peering up past the brim of his hat into the cloudless sky and the blazing sun. He seems to have found a fan somewhere in his store of garishly colored oddments, and Ukitake can only imagine that Ise Nanao has not yet seen this particular fan and its decidedly… bare… depiction of ladies at their musical studies. She would surely have burned it otherwise. "It's a good day for a bit of ice and snow," Shunsui observes, flourishing his fan in emphasis.

Ukitake raises a hand to shade his eyes and glances skyward, though he can feel the heat well enough, beating through his layers of clothing. He has become so accustomed to the way the waters of the lake surrounding his office cool the air that it is sometimes easy to forget how hot it can become in other areas of the Seireitei. Certainly there is nothing to shelter them from the sun here, in this empty expanse between the Soukyoku and the Central Court – the only place isolated enough that a Captain could feel comfortable unleashing his power without harming others, or revealing his secrets to those of lesser rank.

"But really," Shunsui says with a heavy sigh, waving his fan listlessly in the shadow cast by his hat, "it's enough to make you feel old, isn't it? Not to mention totally upstaged. We had a good run of it, with our records unchallenged, didn't we? But I suppose fame is like good sake – it can't last forever."

"Your list of what is like good sake grows every year."

"A positive outlook on life is a good thing, I always say."

"Anyway, no one remembers our past fame anymore. We're old relics now, Shunsui," Ukitake says cheerfully.

Despite the unseasonable heat, he is feeling good today. Whether it is mere chance, or invigoration caused by his eager curiosity, he can't say, but he's grateful. He has watched Hitsugaya Toushiro's career as closely as he could over the years, but this is the first time he will be able to truly see the boy in action. He has never forgotten the impressive reiatsu – undeniably Captain class – he sensed from the boy on the day word of Akita Sachio's death snapped his self-control, and Ukitake's conversations with Unohana since that day have only confirmed that he had not misinterpreted what his senses were telling him.

But perhaps his greatest source of information on Hitsugaya Toushiro's career has been the result of Sentaro and Kiyone's drunken socializing. The absence of Komamura's young fourth seat at officer gatherings over the years has not gone unnoticed, and drunken Shinigami love to gossip. There are times when letting Sentaro and Kiyone yell at each other unstopped as they recount a night's events can yield some positive – or at least informative – results.

Shunsui waves his fan in Ukitake's direction with a pursed-lip smile and a proud flush of his cheeks. "It's a good thing beauty comes with age, then, isn't it?" he says in reply to his friend's attempt to consign them to forgotten antiquity.

"I hope you're going to hide that fan before your Vice Captain sees it."

"What, this thing? Oh, don't worry, my Nanao-chan appreciates good art."

"I see your most recent concussion still hasn't worn off, then."

"Anyway," Shunsui says, shifting to seriousness with his usual ease, "we're certainly here early. Your curiosity is getting the better of you, as usual. Not even Komamura has arrived yet. Though…" He smiles suddenly, and says without turning, "Good morning, Unohana-taichou. Warm weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Unohana says as she steps up beside Ukitake, smiling at both Captains warmly. "A good day for ice and snow."

"Just what I said."

"It looks like the others are arriving as well," Ukitake observes, sensing the approach of several Captain presences.

"Komamura-taichou is with Soi Fong-taichou and Yamamoto-soutaichou, observing the final stage of the written examination," Unohana reports.

"Final stage, hmm?" Shunsui says with raised eyebrows. "He finished rather quickly, then."

"Indeed," Unohana says again, staring back in the direction of the Central Court's tall buildings. "I couldn't help but notice that his fingers were marked by ink stains as well as calluses, whenever I examined him."

"Aaah," Shunsui drawls, his eyebrows climbing even higher as he taps the brim of his hat with his fan in a knowing sort of gesture. "One of those who feels like he has something to prove, is he?"

Unohana smiles, her head tilting just slightly with her quiet laugh. "Not an entirely incorrect feeling, for someone in his unique position."

Tousen Kaname makes his entrance then, walking sedately, as usual avoiding anything even as commonplace as shunpo to make a flashy entrance. The blind Captain gives them a nod on approach, but no words of greeting as he takes up a position beside Unohana.

"Looks like we'll have a decent turn out today," Ukitake says brightly, glad to see that someone other than himself, Unohana, and Komamura are willing to give the boy's exam serious consideration. Despite the unexpected news that Kurotsuchi also gave his recommendation, Ukitake is not expecting to see the 12th Division Captain here today, and can't say that he feels badly about it.

"It is our duty as Captains to observe our peers and maintain the integrity of our rank as much as possible," Tousen says quietly. "Age doesn't matter. Only purity of purpose."

"A good sense of humor always helps, too," Shunsui says lightly.

Ukitake winces, but if Tousen takes any insult from the comment he doesn't show it. Even a couple centuries isn't always enough to get used to Kyouraku Shunsui. Ukitake has had millennia, and the man can still take him by surprise.

He remembers that Kaien, on the other hand, was never set off stride by Shunsui, even at his most drunk. All thanks to the Shiba disposition, Kaien had explained cheerfully. Shiba were never appalled by anything. Iron constitutions. Iron smiles.

Ukitake sighs.

And here he had been hoping to get through the day without comparing one young genius to another.

He does not want to be thinking about Kaien as he observes Hitsugaya's test. The boy deserves his unwavering focus, on this important day.

It was a day that Kaien never had the chance to know.

"Ah, I see I'm late. My apologies."

Aizen has approached quietly; he has always been good at making himself unobtrusive.

"You're not late, Sousuke-kun," Shunsui says, fanning himself again. "We're just discussing the possibility of change in the weather forecast."

"Ah yes, I've heard that his zanpakutou can control the weather," Aizen replies, folding his hands in his sleeves as he comes to stand beside Kyouraku, on the opposite end from Tousen. "I'm looking forward to seeing it displayed."

"Though it looks like Kuchiki isn't going to make an appearance, eh?" Shunsui says, not bothering with the theatrics of looking around. "Not surprising, but it is a shame. Still no interest in playing with others."

Because she is standing next to him, Ukitake can hear Unohana's very soft sound of amusement, though her serene expression does not change.

Aizen smiles, but only says, "Still, we have enough to make the exam legitimate."

Ukitake feels comfortable with the Captains who have chosen to gather today. No one here will judge the boy for the wrong reasons. It will be a fair observation.

Though when it comes right down to it, he wonders how much their approval is actually needed. Technically, merely passing the exam's many requirements is enough, so long as there are witnesses, and the Commander General gives his sanction. The Central 46 has a say in nominating candidates, but the traditions of the Gotei 13 go back even further in history than the authority of the Central 46. The Captains who stand witness have the right to make their opinions known, but if a candidate faces the exam successfully in their presence, in the end their good will is not required, only their confirmation. Yamamoto-soutaichou's word carries the truest weight here, and Ukitake suspects that Yamamoto has already made his decision, and is only waiting for the exam to support it.

Ukitake smiles faintly to himself, lost in old memory. Strict and uncompromising though he has always been, Genryuusai-sensei has a weakness for indulging genius. Ukitake remembers the many private lessons and lectures he and Kyouraku have weathered over the years, even after becoming officers. Even after becoming Captains. Yamamoto expresses his pride best by insisting on ever greater results from his chosen favorites.

Whether it is a bond between wielders of elemental swords, or the boy's serious ambition, or merely a respect for the rarity of such genius, Yamamoto has clearly had his sights set on Hitsugaya Toushiro from the moment of his unusual admittance to the academy.

Well, perhaps it is inevitable. It's true that 10th Division has been without a Captain for far too long, and Shinigami capable of achieving bankai are truly hard to find.

"Ah, here we go," Shunsui murmurs, tucking his fan away at last into his obi.

Yamamoto appears first, ending his shunpo standing opposite the Captains, his hands folded over the cane grounded before him. Soi Fong appears a second later, taking up a position beside him, but at two proper steps' distance. As Commander of the Onmitsukidou and its Keigun Brigade she has a special role to play in observing candidates for Captaincy. Immediate reporting and punishment of misdeeds falls to her Corps, even if only in name. The ritual, symbolic though it may ultimately be, must nonetheless be observed.

Ukitake sighs again, unable to help himself, and Shunsui shoots him a brief but understanding glance. After all, the last time they observed an exam together, it was Yoruichi who had stood by Yamamoto's side. Hers is a smile they both miss.

Komamura appears last, and the vibration of his feet touching ground can be felt through earth and sandals. He steps in beside Tousen without a word.

"Captains," Yamamoto says, his voice carrying across the empty distance between them. "You have gathered today to witness the final testing of one who wishes to lead a division of the Gotei 13. He has successfully completed the written exam, and presents himself now to be tested orally, and to display his combat abilities."

Perfectly timed, young Hitsugaya Toushiro appears in the middle of the field, stepping smoothly out of his shunpo. Given everything he's heard about the boy, Ukitake half suspects that Hitsugaya might indeed have been diligently counting off the seconds to his arrival.

"Hmmm," Shunsui hums softly, tilting his head down just far enough that the brim of his hat will obscure his smile.

Ukitake doesn't need to see Shunsui's face or hear words to know what he is thinking, however. It's been a long time since he saw the boy this close up himself, and he is still much shorter than expected. Ukitake tightens his jaw to keep from smiling. It really is almost endearing, that lack of height. Though he is certain the boy would not appreciate the sentiment.

"The oral examination begins," Yamamoto announces, tapping his staff once against the earth.

Shunsui lifts his head to observe more closely, but Ukitake does not expect his old friend to put forth any questions of his own for Hitsugaya to answer, even though all Captains present have the right to do so.

In the end, as is most common, Yamamoto does the asking. Most of the questions were of course part of the written exam – questions of protocol, of strategy, of administrative minutiae, of the nature of Hollows, and even the history of the Rukongai districts. What is important is not proof that he can answer them again, but rather the _manner_ in which he answers them, when under the scrutiny of other Captains.

He performs admirably. Better than even Ukitake was expecting. As the questions continue, and the boy's answers remain steady and insightful, Ukitake finds himself standing straighter than usual in the grip of an odd sort of pride. He has had nothing to do with Hitsugaya's training, played no role in his life, but somehow having seen enough in the boy to give his recommendation, to be proven right like this… there is no logical reason for it, but it feels rather like a… vindication. Kaien was never able to stand here, but Ukitake feels certain that Kaien would have approved of this boy. He would have had some irreverent things to say about the boy's attitude, true, but he would have approved.

Is it foolish of him, to feel like the approval of a man long dead, a man from a disgraced family, a man who never even achieved a Captain's rank, is something to which he should aspire even now?

Ukitake has long felt that a man is better judged by the nature of the people willing to follow him than by the greatness of his deeds. That Kaien chose to serve him so whole-heartedly is perhaps the greatest pride of his life. Maybe regret makes the feeling sharper than it ought to be, but he is willing to accept that.

A new voice suddenly interrupts the proceedings.

"I have a question to ask, Yamamoto-soutaichou."

Ukitake glances, somewhat surprised, to Aizen. But of course, Sousuke always has been conscientious about his duties and his peers.

"Ask, Aizen Sousuke," Yamamoto says.

Hitsugaya turns his back on Yamamoto for the first time since arriving in order to face Aizen.

Ukitake frowns slightly. There is something in the boy's expression as he looks at 5th Division's Captain that, for just a moment, looks almost… defiant. But the moment passes so quickly that Ukitake wonders if the heat isn't getting to him. Perhaps he only imagined it. The boy has intense eyes, there's no doubt about that.

Aizen smiles, as though to set Hitsugaya at his ease, and speaks his question casually enough for a conversation over tea rather than the most important examination a Shinigami of power can face. "I would like your opinion on matters of discipline, Hitsugaya-san. Should, for example, you become aware of an infraction committed by a seated officer in another Captain's division, how would you handle the situation?"

Hitsugaya doesn't even blink before answering. "I would do what was necessary to rectify the situation on the spot, note the offender's name and position, then instruct them to report to their own Captain on the incident as well as sending said Captain my own report, in person or otherwise."

The answer comes so easily, and so perfectly appropriate to regulation, that Ukitake has to wonder if Hitsugaya hadn't somehow had a reply prepared for just such a question.

Then again, from what he's been able to glean from Unohana and Komamura, the boy achieved bankai years ago already. If he has spent all the intervening time preparing himself for this day, then his poise isn't too surprising. Impressive, and perhaps a bit excessive, but those who achieve a Captain's rank are often… eccentric… in their own and varied ways. Far more surprising is his sense of maturity in the whole affair.

"And would you abide by that Captain's choice of discipline, no matter your interest in the offender or the infraction?" Aizen persists.

This time Ukitake is sure that he does not imagine it; Hitsugaya's eyes narrow, and it is _not_ a look of mere concentration. But when Ukitake glances quickly to Shunsui to see if he too has noticed it, his friend's expression under the hat remains entirely undisturbed. Another quick glance to Unohana proves the same. When he turns his gaze back to Hitsugaya to find all traces of challenge gone from the boy's face, Ukitake realizes he may have been the only one to notice.

Very odd.

"As long as the infraction didn't fall under the jurisdiction of the Commander General or the Central 46, then yes," Hitsugaya says. "A Captain has the right to decide on discipline within his own division."

This time Shunsui makes another small noise of amusement. The boy has staked his own claim to authority in his reply, and perhaps in this his youth is still to be seen. If he passes this examination today, he will find that he needs to assert himself with the other Captains far less than he clearly believes is necessary. The real test will be with his subordinates, but that is something he will have to discover for himself.

Aizen smiles again and nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. "I have no more questions."

"Very well. Does anyone else wish to speak?"

No one does. Ukitake thinks he can detect a slight relaxation in Hitsugaya's straight shoulders, but no longer trusts himself to be sure.

"Then the oral portion of this examination is concluded," Yamamoto announces. He taps his cane to the ground once more, and the sound resonates unnaturally. Ukitake is suddenly reminded what the cane's gnarled appearance masks. It has been so long since he has seen Ryujin Jakka released that it is too easy for even him to forget the truth of that innocuous looking stick. "Hitsugaya Toushiro. Present your zanpakutou."

Moving almost as one, every Captain present steps back into a smooth shunpo, leaving Hitsugaya Toushiro standing alone in a wide open space of dusty land.

The ends of his clothing whip around Ukitake as they settle in the wake of his shunpo, and unexpectedly – always so unexpected – the effort of even so slight a motion starts up a convulsion in his chest. He clenches his teeth and swallows down the cough before it can escape him, though the effort makes his eyes water and pain burst in his chest. Both Shunsui and Unohana, still close enough to either side of him to note his effort, shoot him concerned glances, but they say nothing. After a moment, satisfied that he has forestalled the seizure this time, Ukitake wipes a hand across his brow to clear the sweat that is no longer merely the result of hot weather. He will be especially glad now for something to cool his fevered skin.

Hitsugaya, however, seems in no particular hurry.

He has drawn his sword and holds the blade lowered, left foot slid back, leaning forward over his right knee – a perfect ready stance. He holds the position for so long that it seems indeed as though he is waiting for something against which to guard, and Shunsui hums to himself again as they watch, one finger tapping lightly against the folded fan in his obi.

Ukitake can't help glancing toward Komamura, and wishing again, as always, that he could see the Captain's expression. As difficult as Komamura's unique face is to read, even an inscrutable expression would be better than that helmet. Perhaps it's no surprise that Komamura and Tousen get along so well; both of them have the advantage of unreadable eyes. Ukitake looks away, wondering how lonely that must be.

Fortunately, Hitsugaya has moved at last. Without shifting his feet he lifts his sword, angled overhead in a perfect block, and the bright sunlight – unimpeded by any cloud – glints off the star-like tsuba of his sword.

"Soar in the frozen sky," Hitsugaya says, and though he does not raise his voice the sound of it carries in the still, expectant air. "Hyourinmaru!"

The explosion of reiatsu comes so quickly that Ukitake is sure now that during the long pause Hitsugaya must have been communing with his sword. Together, they have chosen to leave space for not one moment of doubt.

Stepping forward with his left foot, Hitsugaya swings his block around into a angled cut, ending in a single-handed sweep, wide, at his right side. Like a sinuous steel ribbon a chain whips suddenly through the air, coiling around him, suspended in the sudden surge of wind exploding along with his reiatsu. Ice forms in liquid streamers about his arm, crystallizing with a delicate tinkling sound as it winds down the sword and then into the form of vast, blue dragon.

Ukitake catches his breath, remembering the shape he had seen rising above the trees on the night of Hitsugaya's student testing. Up close it is even more beautiful, and its strength is undeniable. The dragon moves through the air like a celestial being in truth, glimmering and swift, and when it roars Ukitake can feel the force of the zanpakutou's presence shivering the air – so close, so present, even in just this shikai.

He wishes that Kaien could have been here to see this. It is just the sort of thing he would have talked about capturing in fireworks. He would have sketched strange, arcane designs, so like the tattoos on his skin, and sent them off to his sister with a grin of expectation. _"We'll have dragons in the sky next festival, just wait and see." _

But if not Kaien, then at least Rukia should be here. She speaks so little about her sword, releases it so infrequently. Ukitake has seen some of Sode No Shirayuki's attacks, but not nearly enough to suit his sense of curiosity, or of concern for his subordinate's progress. Rukia is a solitary child, and she too often prefers training alone. At least seeing another ice and snow zanpakutou in action might be a nice change for her.

Little chance of that now, of course. The boy will be a Captain after this, with no interest in another man's subordinates.

"Ara," Shunsui murmurs, smiling as he tilts his head back to watch the dragon's flight from underneath his hat. "Now that's definitely a sight."

"Yes it is," Unohana says softly, a slight smile turning her own lips. "And very right."

Ukitake doesn't know what thoughts prompt her comment, but nonetheless finds himself silently agreeing with the sentiment.

"And it seems like we'll get some rain after all," Shunsui adds, still looking upward.

Ukitake follows his gaze to see the clouds forming in a previously empty sky; they roll in, black and riotous, swirling into a localized stormfront over Hitsugaya's position. Their dark mass spreads even as Ukitake watches, stretching wispy arms over the entire plateau, and a crack of thunder accompanies the sudden drop in temperature. By the time the black-swathed shapes of Onmitsukidou elites emerge like ghosts from the new shadows the clouds cast, it has already begun to rain.

Seemingly oblivious to the unfavorable conditions his own power has created, Hitsugaya weaves his way through his enemies with ease. He foregoes hakuda entirely, which is a bit unorthodox, but not prohibited, and Ukitake finds himself even more impressed to see the boy take down opponent after opponent by striking only with the flat of his blade. It requires an excruciating precision, Ukitake knows; an unnatural manipulation of the sword's design. The dragon hovers, trailing the movements of Hitsugaya's sword and slicking the ground behind him in ice, but not once does it strike.

Every Captain present has enough experience by which to judge the boy's movements, no matter his methods, no matter his opponents. The Onmitsukidou elites are not here with any hope of defeating him, but merely to give him the opportunity to move against a target. In observing this examination the Captains are merely confirming that they alone would stand a chance against the candidate in combat, and Captains do not fight one another, not even for an examination such as this.

Private sparring, on the other hand, is a different matter, and even as Ukitake finds himself thinking that it's been too long since he and Shunsui last trained together, he wonders if this boy has been lucky enough to know someone – an equal, a friend – with whom he could spar in such a fashion. Probably not, given what he has heard of the boy's solitary nature. And there is little chance that he will find such a comrade now, with a Captain's rank to isolate him. Perhaps the best he can hope for is to be blessed with a worthy Vice Captain.

The rain is turning swiftly to snow by the time the exercise ends. As the Onmitsukidou withdraw – on their own, or taking their incapacitated comrades – Hitsugaya lifts his sword over his head and cries out, raising his voice for the first time.

"Fly – Hyourinmaru!"

Ukitake doesn't think he is naming any particular attack, but his zanpakutou seems to understand him just the same.

With a deafening roar the dragon shoots up into the sky like a serpentine arrow, coils once at the apex of flight, then turns and plunges straight down toward the earth, maw gaping, until it crashes into the ground and shatters in an explosion of water and ice. The wind generated by the force of impact and of reiatsu lifts Ukitake's hair, even at the distance at which he stands, and he can't help grinning as he raises a hand to shield his eyes.

"Now that," he says cheerfully, looking to Shunsui, "was a bit of excellent showmanship."

"And a lovely change in the weather, too," Shunsui says, reaching out to catch a drift of snowflakes as they swirl past. "If only Nanao-chan were here. Perfect weather for snuggling."

But though there are plenty of things Ukitake would like to say in reply to _that_, the descending silence convinces him to hold his tongue. Hitsugaya has not sheathed his sword, and the clouds still roil overhead, but the wind is slowly dying. Yamamoto steps confidently forward onto the ice-slicked ground.

"Hadou number sixty-six," he calls out without preamble, his gravelly voice sharp with command.

Sheathing his sword at last, Hitsugaya faces away from the Commander General, into the empty distance, and begins the incantation.

Incantation after incantation. The familiar words run through Ukitake's mind in tandem with the boy's recitation. There are no mistakes. He makes no attempts to skip the full incantations, instead focusing on perfect execution. Not a natural kidou user, perhaps, but indisputably a Captain's mastery, right into the eighties for bakudou and hadou both, which is as far as even Captains are expected to go.

When it is over, and the last crackle of energy fades, Yamamoto strikes the ground with his staff once again. This time the impact is against frozen earth, and a starburst of cracks spreads from the wooden tip.

"Hitsugaya Toushiro, have you anything you wish to say before the other Captains leave us?"

Ukitake wishes he were standing closer now, but it would be inappropriate to take another shunpo forward. So he is left to imagine the look which might be crossing Hitsugaya's face as the silence stretches. It would seem that this, at least, was one question for which young Hitsugaya had not prepared himself.

"No," he says at last, his voice rather tense.

Shunsui tips his hat down again to hide his smile. Ukitake raises a hand to do the same. That was a tough question, he remembers. Shunsui made a flowery speech, of course. He himself had managed to put together a hasty but more or less collected expression of gratitude for those who had had enough faith in him to recommend him for the examination.

Kisuke, Ukitake suddenly remembers, had grinned that manic grin of his and said only that he hoped everyone would allow him to treat them to a night on the town when the examination was over, because all that standing about in the sun had made him ravenously hungry.

All things considered, a terse "no" isn't too bad. If the boy means to start his career in a no-nonsense fashion, then he is off on the right foot. And Ukitake finds himself looking forward to trying to set him off it. Any young man _that _tense is in dire need of fun and relaxation. Normally he would put Shunsui on that sort of mission, but in this case trying to solve the problem through liberal application of alcohol and singing might not be the best strategy.

Turning to look at Unohana he is not surprised to find her watching him, and he smiles, remembering their conversation over tea on a night years ago. "I think you're right after all, Unohana-taichou. Some intervention is definitely called for."

She smiles warmly at him in return but says nothing, as Yamamoto is speaking once more.

"Then the final stage of the examination will now begin. Captains, you may withdraw."

Ukitake turns along with his fellows to leave the testing ground behind. This time even Tousen uses shunpo to make the long descent from the plateau; there is no way they could cover the distance in a timely fashion otherwise. They reach the first plaza of the Central Court more or less together, even Soi Fong, and silently they all turn to gaze back toward the Soukyoku plateau, now hidden from view by trees and distance and the buildings clustered about the base of the Shrine of Penitence.

But the distance isn't enough to dull a Captain's senses, and Ukitake knows the others feel it as keenly as he when Hitsugaya Toushiro at last releases his bankai. The force is unmistakable. Somewhere beyond their sight, Yamamoto is observing the final and most crucial part of any Captain's test.

Ukitake sighs. "Such a shame. I bet it's beautiful."

"Undoubtedly," Aizen agrees, his eyes hidden by a flash of sunlight on his glasses. "But there are some secrets we all like to keep."

Tousen turns, wordless, and walks sedately from the plaza.

"Well, Komamura," Shunsui says, "I think you can be proud."

Komamura remains motionless, helmeted head still turned to the plateau. "I have done nothing. He chose his own path early on, and walked it alone. I suspected from the beginning that it would be so."

"I don't think you were the only one," Ukitake murmurs, wondering what Yamamoto-sensei is seeing, and feeling, at this moment.

"An impressive accomplishment, certainly," Sousuke says.

"And what do you think, Soi Fong-taichou?" Shunsui asks, snapping out his fan once more. The cold shift in the weather has not reached this far from the testing grounds.

"He has met all of the necessary requirements," she replies, her tone as cool as any shrug.

"And he doesn't seem likely to go busting down the wrong doors, wreaking havoc and causing you problems, does he?"

Soi Fong meets Shunsui's gaze levelly. "No. Which is more than I can say for others."

"Yes, I know." Shunsui affects a heavy sigh. "That Zaraki. Such a trouble maker."

Soi Fong's eyes narrow, but she doesn't bother to reply. Turning gracefully, the rings on her hair sweeping the length of her sword, she leaves the plaza without another word.

Aizen clears his throat, smiling knowingly, and gives them a slight bow. "I also have business to attend to. I will send my formal observation approval to Yamamoto-soutaichou in writing, though I suspect there'll be no need to wait on it."

"No need," Komamura agrees, and despite his claim of a moment ago, there is something very like pride indeed in his gruff voice as he turns away from the plateau at last. "It was a perfect examination. Just as he intended."

"Who intended, I wonder," Shunsui says softly from behind his indecent fan, and Ukitake meets his eyes. They've both been thinking the same thing today, apparently. No surprise. They know Yamamoto Genryuusai better than anyone.

"I'll have Hinamori-kun bring over the book that Ise-fukutaichou was requesting, Kyouraku-san," Aizen says with a wave as he departs, and Shunsui flaps his fan at him by way of thanks.

To Ukitake's surprise, and pleasure, Komamura makes no signs of leaving. His large, gauntleted hand touches his sword once, readjusting it in his obi, and then he tilts his head down toward the three Captains remaining. "It will be 10th Division, then," he says.

"It would have to be," Ukitake agrees.

"And past time, I think," Unohana adds quietly, still gazing into the distance, where the pressure of a bankai release can still be felt. "It will be a difficult position to fill at first, but I think he will settle in well."

"He could use a good Vice Captain," Komamura muses. "Who is it again? Nakada?"

Shunsui chuckles, tapping the brim of his hat with his fan in a mischievous fashion. "Oh no. Nakada already put in his resignation. I do believe our young genius is going to be blessed by Matsumoto's ample – "

"Ability," Ukitake injects swiftly, stepping hard on Shunsui's foot.

"Ai, Juushiro!" Shunsui crumples in dramatic dismay to fan at his reddened toes.

"Matsumoto?" Komamura echoes skeptically, completely ignoring Shunsui's display. "That will be… an interesting arrangement. I do not think they are well suited, but I suppose she will have to learn."

"Oh, I think they will _both_ have to do a great deal of learning," Unohana says brightly, midnight eyes sparkling with an amusement that from anyone else would have come across as decidedly wicked in bent. "I think it's quite a good arrangement, actually. Be comforted, Komamura-taichou."

"She'll loosen him up." Shunsui straightens from his huddle in a sweep of pink fabric, and there's no hiding the wickedness in _his_ eyes at all. "He looks like he could use a bit of hard drinking."

"I don't think drinking will work in this case." Ukitake shakes his head. "She might have to try something like… sweets, maybe."

"Tea," Komamura suggests simply.

"Ample… abilities," Shunsui says, shooting Ukitake a contrite look – ruined by the smile that follows. "In any case, she'll give him a bit of respectability, whether he knows it or not."

"Matsumoto-san was in your division for quite some time, was she not, Kyouraku-taichou?" Unohana asks.

"Oh, years and years," Shunsui replies, fanning himself once more. "Nanao-chan still misses her, you know."

"You mean _you _miss having a drinking partner," Ukitake points out wryly.

"That too, that too. But she's a good girl, really. She deserves this chance. Every Vice Captain needs a good Captain in order to shine, isn't that right?"

Komamura merely grunts, and Unohana smiles gently, saying nothing.

"It can work both ways," Ukitake says quietly.

Silence follows his words, and Ukitake regrets having spoken them aloud. The old, black guilt once again driving him into needless pains.

If only he could say that, given a second chance, he would do things differently.

But he knows that he would not.

And it is with guilt – but determined not to allow them a chance to scold him for being morose – that he lets the cough he has been suppressing emerge. As expected, the nature of the concern in Unohana's eyes changes at the sound, and Shunsui settles for patting him uselessly on the back with his fan.

Unfortunately, once started, the coughing fit is difficult to control. The sharp taste of blood hits the back of his tongue, and Ukitake grimaces, covering his mouth with one hand.

"Tea for us as well, perhaps," Komamura suggests calmly. "Do not strain yourself, Ukitake-taichou."

"Tea is always a good idea," Unohana says. "Perhaps you would all join me? I have a great deal of work to get back to, but I could do with some tea first. And perhaps some… sweets."

Behind his hand, the taste of blood still in his mouth, Ukitake can't help but smile.

"I would be honored," Komamura says.

"Wonderful. We will go on ahead, then. Ukitake-taichou, Kyouraku-taichou, please join us when you are ready."

"We'll be right along!" Shunsui calls after them cheerfully.

Ukitake presses his fingers to his lips for a moment, making sure there is no blood to wipe clean, and straightens his shoulders.

"That's enough, thank you," he says hoarsely.

"Eh?" Shunsui feigns innocence, continuing to pat away with the fan.

"Shunsui, if you don't put that fan away, _I'm _going to burn it."

"Burn it!" Shunsui snatches the fan back. "Who's talking about burning it? Really, Juushiro, there's no need to be unkind."

"You might consider that yourself before inflicting your taste in accessories on the rest of us."

"Eh, don't pretend now, Juu-chan! I know you like these lovely ladies. I still remember that day I caught you peeping at the hot springs – "

"That was _two thousand years ago_!" Ukitake protests. "We were practically children!"

"Yes, but you're _still _blushing, aren't you? I'd say that means you still feel guilty about it. Go on, admit it. It's no sin to be a lecher at your age."

"_Our _age."

"Like good sake, my friend. Like good sake."

Ukitake sighs, giving in. As he always does.

"Anyway, it seems they've finished up there," Shunsui observes, without even a shift in his tone. "The boy has quite the reiatsu, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"Do you regret not choosing him for your division after all?"

"No. It has worked out for the best."

"Maybe so, maybe so. It would have been hard to let him go so soon."

"And I think it's all worked out according to sensei's plans."

"Probably," Shunsui agrees. He puts the fan away, and out of nowhere produces a flowered stem. Settling it between his teeth at the corner of his mouth, he speaks around it with a grin. "He's a conniving one, our Yama-jii. Likes to pick them out when they're young."

"And we still bear the scars of it, don't we?"

"Proudly, of course."

"Perhaps we should wait for him…"

"Yama-jii, or the boy?"

"Well… both. Mostly the boy. Though we shouldn't call him a boy any longer."

"He should be quite happy to be a boy still, I think. Or at least happy about his height. With Rangiku-chan for his Vice Captain, I'd say that's the perfect height to be."

Now, with no one else around, Ukitake allows himself a chuckle.

With only an exchange of glances, they turn by silent consent to leave the plaza, beginning the walk to 4th Division's compound. Unohana will be waiting with the tea prepared, no doubt. Komamura too, unexpected company, but welcome all the same; Ukitake has always wished Komamura Sajin would confide more in his fellows.

As they walk, Shunsui begins singing a drawling song about full moons reflected in full eyes, and shining on the snowy skin of full bosoms – deliberately off-key as always, though Ukitake knows his friend can sing perfectly well when he wishes to.

It will be a long walk, but Ukitake doesn't mind. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain Hitsugaya Toushiro summoned, which is pleasant in the heat. His mind is still full with the image of a graceful dragon, and he hopes that it will not be the last time he sees that creature of ice and stars. He will never have Kaien's eye for shapes, never be able to capture color and form in ink or in fireworks as the Shiba pride themselves on doing. But he can appreciate such things all the same.

_Kaien, _he thinks. _You would have liked the boy. At least you would have liked pestering him. You were never isolated by your gifts, because everyone loved you. You could have given him that._

"Do you really think Matsumoto will be a good Vice Captain for him?" Ukitake asks, trying to put the memory of Kaien's crooked smile aside.

"Absolutely. She'll skip out on her work, pester him mercilessly, and make him wish he'd never left the academy. He'll be driven to distraction within a month."

_"Taichou, this office is a disaster! If Miyako sees this mess she'll kill me. You should be ashamed, making your poor Vice Captain pick up after you like this. **Eh, what are you doing!?** If you get up from that chair I'll be forced to do something drastic! Taichou, you're enough to make even a Shiba despair. Old as dirt and still no wiser. What would you do without a responsible Vice Captain like me to look after you?" _

Ukitake smiles.

"You're right," he says. "She'll be perfect for him."


End file.
